


Mother, I Want To Swing

by QuenchiestCactusJuice99



Category: Bleach
Genre: Really bad description of Hollowfication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 09:07:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14185620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuenchiestCactusJuice99/pseuds/QuenchiestCactusJuice99
Summary: There is a boy, sitting on a swing, and his chain is ever-shrinking.





	Mother, I Want To Swing

The ghost of a child - black hair and pale skin dulled, almost blurred by translucency, and bloody gouges where his eyes have been fair ripped from his head - lurks on the swing set of an abandoned amusement park. The wind pushes and he swings silently, unheard, unnamed and unnoticed, and no one is ever the wiser.

“I want to swing,” He says quietly, “Mother, I want to swing.” And it is followed by the hollow, chilling laugh of a child that might have once been happy, but no one is ever close enough to hear. Not that they’d even try; to them it is just the wind whispering through trees.

(The wind always was such a gossip. It was a relief that humans nearly never bothered to lend an ear. Those who didn’t meddle were better off, and some mightn’t of learned a wee thing or three they best stay away from if they had only just minded their business and left the wind and her gossip to run on their own.)

The short chain that hangs from his small chest is shrinking.

**[Slowly, slowly, but still shrinking...]**

Soon, it will be all gone, and it’s growing smaller.

**[Smaller, smaller. Shrinking, shrinking faster though...]**

What happens when it’s gone?

...  
...

There is a boy, sitting on a swing that’s moving slightly in the breeze, and his chain is ever shrinking.

It’s very small, and almost gone now-

**[Just one more link. One more~]**

“I want to swing,” The child whispers, “Mother, I want to swing.” Halfway through, the childish laugh is contorted into an inhuman scream. “M **ot** he **r** **p** le **a** s **e** -“

...  
...

**“I’m hungry.”**

And looking through the kitchen window, with eyes like flaming coals, he sees her...

 **“Mother,”** The voice warbles, **“Feed me.”**


End file.
